The Hate U Give(97)

“Guys, it is! Think about it. You get protein, calcium—”

“Protein is meat,” DeVante says. “Not no damn cheese. I wish somebody would give me some macaroni, calling it a meal.”

“It’s like the easiest, quickest meal ever though,” Chris says. “One box, and you’re—”

“And that’s the problem,” I say. “Real macaroni and cheese doesn’t come from a box, babe. It eventually comes from an oven with a crust bubbling on top.”

“Amen.” Seven holds his fist to me, and I bump it.

“Ohhh,” Chris says. “You mean the kind with breadcrumbs?”

“What?” DeVante yells, and Seven goes, “Breadcrumbs?”

“Nah,” I say. “I mean there’s like a crust of cheese on top. We gotta get you to a soul food restaurant, babe.”

“This fool said breadcrumbs.” DeVante sounds seriously offended. “Breadcrumbs.”

The car stops. Up ahead a Road Closed sign blocks the street with a cop car in front of it.

“Damn,” Seven says, backing up and turning around. “Gotta find another way to the store.”

“They probably got a lot of roadblocks around the neighborhood tonight,” I tell him.

“Fucking breadcrumbs.” DeVante still can’t get over it. “I swear, I don’t understand white people. Breadcrumbs on macaroni, kissing dogs on the mouth—”

“Treating their dogs like they’re their kids,” I add.

“Yeah!” says DeVante. “Purposely doing shit that could kill them, like bungee jumping.”

“Calling Target ‘Tar-jay,’ like that makes it fancier,” says Seven.

“Fuck,” Chris mutters. “That’s what my mom calls it.”

Seven and I bust out laughing.

“Saying dumb shit to their parents,” DeVante continues. “Splitting up in situations when they clearly need to stick together.”

Chris goes, “Huh?”

“Babe, c’mon,” I say. “White people always wanna split up, and when they do something bad happens.”

“That’s only in horror movies though,” he says.

“Nah! Shit like that is always on the news,” says DeVante. “They go on a hiking trip, split up, and a bear kills somebody.”

“Car breaks down, they split up to find help, and a serial killer murders somebody,” Seven adds.

“Like, have y’all ever heard that there’s power in numbers?” DeVante asks. “For real though.”

“Okay, fine,” Chris says. “Since you guys want to go there with white people, can I ask a question about black people?”

Cue the record scratching. No lie, all three of us turn and look at him, including Seven. The car veers off to the side of the road, scraping against the curb. Seven cusses and gets it back on the street.

“I mean, it’s only fair,” Chris mumbles.

“Guys, he’s right,” I say. “He should be able to ask.”

“Fine,” says Seven. “Go ahead, Chris.”

“Okay. Why do some black people give their kids odd names? I mean, look at you guys’ names. They’re not normal.”

“My name normal,” DeVante says, all puffed-up sounding. “I don’t know what you talking about.”

“Man, you named after a dude from Jodeci,” Seven says.

“And you named after a number! What’s your middle name? Eight?”

“Anyway, Chris,” Seven says, “DeVante’s got a point. What makes his name or our names any less normal than yours? Who or what defines ‘normal’ to you? If my pops were here, he’d say you’ve fallen into the trap of the white standard.”

Color creeps into Chris’s neck and face. “I didn’t mean—okay, maybe ‘normal’ isn’t the right word.”

“Nope,” I say.

“I guess uncommon is the word instead?” he asks. “You guys have uncommon names.”

“I know ’bout three other DeVantes in the neighborhood though,” says DeVante.

“Right. It’s about perspective,” says Seven. “Plus, most of the names white people think are unusual actually have meanings in various African languages.”

“And let’s be real, some white people give their kids ‘uncommon’ names too,” I say. “That’s not limited to black people. Just ’cause it doesn’t have a De-or a La-on the front doesn’t make it okay.”

Chris nods. “True enough.”

“Why you have to use ‘De-’ as an example though?” DeVante asks.

We stop again. Another roadblock.

“Shit,” Seven hisses. “I gotta go the long way. Through the east side.”

“East side?” DeVante says. “That’s GD territory!”

“And that’s where most of the riots happened last time,” I remind them.

Chris shakes his head. “Nope. Can’t go there then.”

“Nobody’s thinking about gangbanging tonight,” Seven says. “And as long as I stay away from the major streets, we’ll be all right.”